


Future Tense

by phichithamsters



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-timeskip! Felix, Rimming, Time Travel, Timeskip! Sylvain, sylvix - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24745276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phichithamsters/pseuds/phichithamsters
Summary: Felix’s heart quickens, because every detail of Sylvain’s story is correct, exactly the way Felix remembers it. But he still can’t believe it— can’t wrap his head around the fact that this might be Sylvain from a future time.Because if it truly was Sylvain, and he had come back to visit Garreg Mach, then why would he visit Felix first?—A story in which a future Sylvain travels back in time to visit Felix, and Sylvain gives him a taste of things to come.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 183





	Future Tense

**Author's Note:**

> So, [@alykapedia](https://twitter.com/alykapedia) made this tweet about "ts!sylvain spoiling the HELL out of pre-ts!felix bc 'it's gonna take me a long while to get my head out of my ass, so let me give you something to look forward to'" and I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I asked her if I could write it and well, the rest is history. She gets all the credit for inspiring almost 6k of feelsy pwp.

It’s a Saturday night and Felix is alone in his room. 

It isn’t unusual for him to retire there early on weekends, bone-tired and spent from a full day of training. While his classmates preferred to spend their days off going shopping in the town or relaxing by the greenhouse, Felix prefers to spend his time on the training grounds, drilling his forms until his arms shake. 

If someone happens to join Felix on the training grounds, Felix will challenge them to a duel. Most of the students ignore him, but he gets the occasional bite (usually from Ferdinand or Lorenz who are always looking for an opportunity to take Felix down). They still haven't succeeded. 

Then, after a full day of drills and exercises, Felix will bathe and sit for a meal in the dining hall. After, he'll return to his room and finish the night with some light reading. Nothing fantastical, of course; usually just tactics primers he's borrowed from the professor.

It is on one such night, after Felix has skimmed a chapter on defensive maneuvers to combat an armed Cavalry, when he hears someone shuffling outside of his door. Felix’s hand slips under the pillow, instinctively searching for the dagger he keeps there. 

His fingers find the hilt. “Who’s there?” He calls. 

His door swings open— had he forgotten to lock it?— and Felix grabs the dagger and steadies it in front of him. 

When the person enters the room, Felix drops the dagger in shock.

It clatters loudly as it hits the floor beside his bed. “Sylvain?”

The person standing in front of him looks like Sylvain, but… older, perhaps. His hair is the same shade of infuriating auburn but it’s longer, parted to the side with a different sweep than Felix is used to. And he’s not in uniform, either— instead, the man is wearing a suit of iron armor with high shoulders and an elegant turquoise cape around his waist. 

But Felix knows Sylvain is out to dinner tonight with a few of his classmates, so who is this man?

“I knew you’d be in here,” the man who looks like Sylvain says. “Hey, Fe.”

At the mention of his nickname, Felix’s eyes widen. “How do you know my name? I mean, my—” He pauses. “That’s what Sylvain calls me.”

The man’s face drops, like he’s forgotten something important. 

“Goddess! I’m so sorry. You must be so confused. Let me explain,” he says. “Can I come in?”

Felix stands from his bed to pick up his dagger by his bedside. He points it at the man. “Yes,” he says warily. “So long as you explain what’s going on.”

The man nods, closing the door behind him as he steps into the room. He holds his hands up defensively. “Fe, it’s me, Sylvain.”

Felix scoffs. “You’re not Sylvain; you can’t be. He’s out tonight—“

“— In town, celebrating passing my Cavalier exam with Mercedes, Annette, and Ashe,” the Sylvain lookalike supplies. Felix narrows his eyes but doesn’t lower his dagger. 

“How did you know that.” It’s not a question. 

“Because I’m him, and he’s me. I’m Sylvain from the future— five years from now, to be exact,” Sylvain says. 

Felix’s voice dries in his throat. There is no way that the man in front of him is actually Sylvain, his Sylvain. This has to be some kind of joke. 

“You’re lying,” Felix says, but he hears the wobble in his voice. His hands are beginning to shake, and no amount of mental fortitude can steady them.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Sylvain says. “But somehow, I have been transported back five years to Garreg Mach. I woke up in front of the monastery and I came straight to your room. And I can prove it to you! Prove to you that I’m… well, me. Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

“I don’t believe you,” Felix whispers angrily, but he lets Sylvain continue. Felix wants to hear what Sylvain has to say, even though he doubts anything could possibly prove to him that this is even remotely real.

“I can prove it,” Sylvain repeats, keeping his hands held high as if he’s afraid Felix is going to strike. “I can prove it because I know things. Like, for instance, when I was twelve, my brother shoved me down a well to die because he resented me and my crest. Only two people know this story— the professor, and you,” he says, and his voice softens. “And you only know because you were the one to find me, call for help, and then stay with me until the chill was finally gone from my body.”

Felix’s heart quickens, because every detail of his story is correct, exactly the way Felix remembers it. But he still can’t believe it— can’t wrap his head around the fact that this might be Sylvain from a future time. 

Because if it truly was Sylvain, and he had come back to visit Garreg Mach, then why would he visit Felix first?

Sylvain continues to speak. “And I know that you, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, my best friend since age five and the only person who has put up with me for this long, you have a huge crush on me.”

Felix’s mouth drops open as he fumbles for a reply. “What? That’s— that’s insane, you don’t know what you’re talking about— I knew that you were lying—“

“And I, Sylvain, have a major crush on you, as well,” Sylvain says, and Felix’s mouth snaps shut. “Both the me from your time, and me now.”

Sylvain… has feelings for him? Felix is stunned speechless. Out of all the unbelievable things that have happened tonight, the most far-fetched of all is that Sylvain might love him back. 

True to himself, future Sylvain smoothly steps in to fill the space left by Felix’s silence. 

“Look, I know it’s a lot to take in, but I really wanted to come talk to you, Fe,” he says. Sylvain lowers his hands and takes a step closer, and that’s when Felix realizes that he’s lowered his weapon. “I needed to tell you that I’m sorry, and well, mostly just apologize for... my past self. Your Sylvain.”

Dumbstruck, Felix nods. He sits back on the bed, head falling into his hands as he takes a few steadying breaths. Counting his inhales and exhales calms Felix, and the pressure on his temple helps him to focus. 

Felix doesn’t get it, but somehow, he understands. 

When he lifts his head, he finds that Sylvain is right in front of him, kneeling down so that they’re at eye level. The expression on Sylvain’s face is soft, his hazel eyes searching Felix’s face. It reminds Felix of when they were kids, when Felix would hurt himself playing, and Sylvain would enclose Felix’s tiny hands in his large ones and wouldn’t let go until Felix smiled again.

“Felix, it’s going to take me a few years to get my head out of my ass and realize how important you are to me,” Sylvain says. “I’m here to apologize for being so blind, and I’m begging you to stick with me. I promise I’m going to come around.”

Sylvain tentatively places a hand on Felix’s knee. When Felix doesn’t immediately jerk away, Sylvain begins to rub small circles with his thumb. To Felix’s surprise, the gesture is strangely comforting. His Sylvain doesn’t touch him like this, hasn’t in years.

Felix feels himself beginning to ease. “Okay,” he says slowly. “If you’re from the future, then… can I ask you a few questions?”

Sylvain raises his eyebrows, like this is not the reaction he was expecting. “Of course,” he says. 

Felix chews on his lip for a minute, trying to think of what to ask first. He has the once in a lifetime opportunity to ask anything he wants of someone from the future— should he ask about his friends? His father? Dimitri? Should he ask bigger things, like about what really happened in Duscur, or where the professor is from? 

Felix’s eyes meet Sylvain’s. “What am I like?” he asks softly. 

The look on Sylvain’s face is enough to break Felix’s heart. “Oh, Felix. You’re everything.”

And then the Sylvain from the future kisses him. 

Sylvain knows how to kiss— Felix has always understood this to some degree— but the moment their lips meet, Felix melts. It’s gentle yet urgent at the same time, Sylvain’s lips moving in time to Felix’s own heartbeat. And goddess, his mouth is soft— gently nipping at Felix’s with a controlled hunger. 

Felix tentatively lifts a hand to Sylvain’s face, cupping his chin, and Sylvain lets out the most beautiful noise, something between a whimper and a sigh. Felix wants to be closer; he wraps his arm around Sylvain’s neck to pull him in, and Sylvain responds by gripping his waist tightly, squeezing hard enough to make Felix draw in a sharp breath. 

Sylvain’s lips part and so Felix follows, opening his mouth hungrily to let Sylvain’s tongue explore every inch of his teeth. Felix can feel the blood pounding in his ears, hears the rush of breath escaping his lips in gasps and pants. How long has he wanted to do this with Sylvain? How long has his mind wandered in class or on the training grounds, his eyes following the curve of Sylvain’s muscles beneath his shirt as Felix imagines pushing him against a wall and crashing their mouths together?

How long has he been wanting Sylvian, only to now find out that Sylvain wants him as well?

Felix pulls away, panting as he tries to catch his breath. A little crease appears above Sylvain’s brow.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking Felix’s cheek with one thumb. Felix leans into it, letting his eyes fall closed. 

“Mhm,” he murmurs. “Just thinking.”

When Felix opens his eyes again, Sylvain wears a fond smile. His lips are damp and pink from being kissed, and Felix can see the understanding behind Sylvain’s usual playfulness. It presses at the corners of his lips when he smiles, his eyes searching Felix’s for an answer. 

“You think too much, Fe,” Sylvain whispers. He lays a kiss on Felix’s forehead and Felix flushes red, warmth creeping under his collar. “Let me help you get out of that head of yours.” His voice is low, smooth like dark wine, and it sends a searing heat straight to the front of Felix’s pants.

Sylvain’s eyes travel down the length of Felix’s torso, and Felix can only nod. Their positions are a bit awkward, with Felix sitting on his bed and Sylvain kneeling in front of him, but Sylvain nudges Felix’s legs apart and steps between them. He towers over Felix, almost swallowing him whole as he leans down to grab Felix’s face in both hands and kiss him again.

This time, Felix lets out a moan as Sylvain’s tongue presses against his. “You sound so good, Fe,” Sylvain murmurs. The vibrations send tingles down Felix’s spine, and he chases the words on Sylvain’s lips. Sylvain’s hands drift down his jaw, trailing lightly over his neck and shoulders, tracing outlines of his chest. Felix gasps when one of Sylvian’s fingers brushes over his nipple through the fabric of his shirt, toes curling when Sylvain then pinches it. It’s like he knows exactly what’ll get a reaction out of Felix.

Sylvian’s mouth moves south. Felix makes a sound of protest when they break apart, but Sylvain latches onto Felix’s jaw and his quiet complaints quickly melt into whimpers. Sylvain swirls his tongue in lazy circles, kissing in-between the peaks and valleys of Felix’s long neck. 

Felix takes the opportunity to open his eyes for a moment, and all the air is sucked from the room when he sees Sylvain kneeling in front of the bed— in front of him.

“Goddess, Syl, please,” Felix whimpers. He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice, so much thinner than his usual gruff demeanor. Felix almost sounds weak. 

“What is it, my love?” Sylvian asks, peering up at him. It’s enough to break him—Sylvain looking at him like this, hazel eyes through long, cherry-red lashes.

It’s just not fair.

“Please, kiss me— touch me,” Felix stutters, because he’s unable to think clearly anymore. Sylvain’s hands are everywhere and Felix can’t focus on anything except Sylvain’s fingertips and his palms and his knuckles and all the skin in between.

Sylvain chuckles into Felix’s skin. “I am touching you, love,” he says, bringing his lips back up to meet Felix’s briefly. “I want to make you feel good, Fe. Tell me what you want.”

Felix is lost in this Sylvain; he feels like he’s coming undone in Sylvain’s eyes, dark amber with lust; his arms, encircling their bodies; his tongue, soft and welcoming, a far cry from the sharp wit he usually carries. Felix scrambles to grab anything on Sylvain’s armor to pull him closer.

“Touch me,” he repeats. This time his voice is low and gravely, carrying as much conviction as he can muster and all of the desperation twisted in his heart.

“Anything,” Sylvain breathes, and kisses Felix again. Felix moans into the kiss as Sylvain helps him out of his doublet and shirt, fingers deftly undoing the buttons and pushing the silky fabric down Felix’s shoulders. Sylvain sheds off the top half of his armor so he can press their bodies together, forcing them further onto Felix’s bed. 

Sylvain’s kisses migrate downwards again, but this time he doesn’t stop at Felix’s collarbones; instead, he kisses every inch of Felix’s chest with the fervor and dedication of a parched man in the desert tasting his first drink of water. Felix keens as Sylvain’s tongue dips into the curves of his muscles, tracing over lines that have been sculpted by years of training on days when his other classmates insisted on resting. Felix is thankful he stayed home this night, but he had never thought that his training would come in hand like this.

“Sylvain…” 

Sylvain’s mouth is now attending to his nipples, already red and sensitive. He flicks his tongue around one of them, sending a jolt up Felix’s spine. Felix gasps, only to find Sylvain smiling cheekily as he works his tongue. 

Felix blushes and turns his head away— even like this, Sylvain finds a way to embarrass him.

Once Sylvain’s determined Felix’s chest to be thoroughly taken care of, he places one hand on Felix’s back to lay him down on the bed so that he can work his hands under Felix’s trousers and slip them down past his knees. Sylvain’s fingers are cool and his mouth is searing as he kisses the ridges of Felix’s hips. Felix had always thought that they jutted out at an odd angle, but Sylvain is worshipping them reverently, each kiss leaving a fire blazing in its stead. 

Felix is too hot— he’s overheating— but that’s nothing compared to how hard he is, how much the arousal makes him ache. He can feel the wet spot on the front of his undergarments growing as Sylvain’s tongue laps at the space between his hips. 

Sylvain hooks a finger under Felix’s last remaining item of clothing, pulling it down far enough to expose Felix’s cock, flushed and aching. A few drops of precome are leaking from the tip already and Felix hasn’t even been touched.

“You’re so beautiful,” Sylvain says as he kisses the inside of Felix’s thigh. Felix whimpers and cants his hips upward, searching desperately for relief.

Sylvain takes Felix into his hand and Felix gasps, because his hand is warm and is large enough to wrap around his cock with room to spare. Goddess, how much more is Sylvain going to grow?

“Wanna make you feel good,” Sylvain mutters, gently stroking Felix’s length. His tongue flicks over the tip and Felix doubles over like he’s been punched in the gut. 

Sylvain holds him steady with his other arm, placing a hand on Felix’s chest. 

Felix grabs it like a lifeline. “Fuck, Sylvain,” he gasps. 

“Oh darling, this isn't even the best part,” Sylvain whispers, a gleam in his eye, and he takes Felix into his mouth.

Hot, wet heat engulfs Felix’s cock and he moans, loud enough that Felix spares a passing apology for any of his floormates that might have returned home early. Sylvain’s mouth feels like plush velvet, soft and warm, and when Sylvain begins to suck him, Felix nearly loses his mind.

“Sylvain! Goddess, Sylvain—” Felix cries. He can’t keep quiet, Sylvain’s name spilling from his mouth, dripping from the corners of his lips, both of them drowning in the sound.

Sylvain is the closest thing to an angel, if Felix were ever to have the chance to lay his eyes upon one. His spit-slicked mouth, stretched over Felix’s cock; his eyes, staring intently up at Felix, almost like he’s pouting— it’s frustrating, it’s perfect, and Felix feels like he’s going to snap.

Continuing to suck Felix’s length, Sylvain’s hand drifts downwards towards Felix’s hole and traces a gentle circle around the opening. Felix’s body shivers at his touch. 

Sylvain kisses the head of Felix’s cock as he removes his mouth. “Have you done this yet?” he asks, gently prodding at Felix with his middle finger.

Felix nods impatiently, grinding his hips towards Sylvain’s hand. Sylvain chuckles gently. 

“Just a moment, love. Do you have any lubricant?” he asks.

Felix just moans. It takes him a few breaths to wrap his head around the question, but Felix manages to produce the words “bedside table.”

Sylvain reaches over to open the drawer on Felix’s nightstand, rummaging for a moment before his face lights up as he retrieves it. He holds up the small bottle to the light, inspecting it. 

“Good quality,” he says with a wink, removing the cork to spread some on his fingers. “Where’d you get it?”

Felix blushes. “You, uh… you gave it to me,” he says. Thinking back, Sylvain had come up to him with a mysterious glint in his eye, holding something behind his back. When he revealed the bottle, Felix flushed a miserable shade of crimson and stomped off without another word. Later that night, he’d found the bottle sitting outside of his room, wrapped discreetly in parchment paper and adorned with a note that read, “Have fun! Love, Syl.”

Realization dawns on Sylvain and he laughs loudly. “Oh man, I remember that. I can’t believe I thought you were going to use it with girls.”

Felix scrunches up his face in disbelief. “That’s what you thought? I was under the impression that you wanted me to, uh... loosen up,” Felix says, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. 

Sylvain laughs louder and Felix crosses his arms, pouting until he feels Sylvain’s finger against his entrance again.

“And did you?” Sylvain asks, laughter lines replaced by a dark grin. “Loosen up, that is?” 

He punctuates his question by pressing a finger in and Felix moans, his back arching as he scrambles for purchase on his bedspread. 

“Fuck—” 

“Good boy,” Sylvain murmurs, taking Felix into his mouth once more.

“Sylvain, I—” Felix is cut off by his own gasps, Sylvain’s finger thrusting in and out of him.

“—Just want you to feel good, baby,” Sylvain says from in between his legs, and fuck, Felix has never been called baby before but it sounds so right rolling off of Sylvain’s lips. Felix wants to suffocate in the sound. 

Sylvain gently presses another finger in and Felix groans, thrusting his hips against Sylvain’s fingers, as if he could get himself off by fucking himself on them (which, if Sylvain continues, he might). Sylvain moans around his cock, the vibrations sending shivers down Felix’s spine and making him leak. 

With two fingers in, Sylvain speeds up his pace. He works his tongue over Felix in time, steadying himself with an iron grip on Felix’s waist. Sylvain’s fingers twist just slightly and it makes Felix cry out, only to hear Sylvain murmur, “I knew you’d like that,” against the head of his cock.

This older version of Sylvain knows exactly where to touch him, taking Felix apart expertly with just two fingers. He worships Felix’s body like he’s spent many candlelit nights studying it with a careful eye and slow hands.

And it’s working. Felix is falling apart, his biting remarks quickly interrupted by moans and gasps and even cries of Sylvain’s name as Sylvain crooks his fingers into Felix’s prostate, making his toes curl and sending him reeling.

“Sylvain, I’m— fuck, I’m close,” Felix moans. One hand is tangled in the bedsheets and the other moves to thread into Sylvain’s hair; it’s longer than he’s used to, shaggy and unkempt but still devastatingly soft in his hands. Felix pulls hard, and Sylvain hums around his cock. 

Without warning, Sylvain’s mouth moves lower, gently sucking Felix’s balls, and goddess— that’s not a sensation Felix has felt before but he craves it, chases it by thrusting his hips upwards. 

“Does that feel good, Fe?” Sylvain whispers, kissing Felix’s inner thighs as he thrusts his fingers in and out. 

“Yes, goddess, yes,” Felix whimpers. The heat in his lower abdomen coils through the rest of his body, threatening to burst at any moment, if only Sylvain would get his hands on him once more and finish him off. Felix groans one more and throws his arm over his face to hide his eyes as Sylvain fucks into him.

The next thing he knows, Felix feels Sylvain’s hand gently tugging at his arm. Felix peeks out from behind it.

“Don’t hide, love,” Sylvain says. “Let me see you.” 

He licks the head of Felix’s cock and then swallows him again, almost to the base, and Felix yells loud enough to wake the statues of the saints in the cathedral. Felix thrusts his hips into the wet heat and Sylvain takes him, coaxing Felix’s orgasm out with his fingers. 

They brush across his prostate once more. Felix’s whole body clenches and he comes, hard. 

He grips Sylvain’s hair, doubled over as he rides through the shockwaves. His own come drips off of Sylvain’s willing tongue, and Felix watches with mortified intrigue as Sylvain swallows it down with a marvelous grin. 

It takes a minute to catch his breath, unclenching his fingers and toes as he comes down. When he finally opens his eyes, Felix sees Sylvain staring at him, a look of reverence on his face. His forehead is sparkling with a sheen of sweat, but other than that, he looks perfectly, infuriatingly unaffected. 

“You’re beautiful, Felix,” Sylvain whispers.

Felix blushes and turns away, suddenly aware of how exposed he is compared to Sylvain. He had appreciated the attention before, but now, in the harsh light of his room, naked and spent...

“Ah, sorry,” Sylvain says, wiping his chin. “You don’t like compliments after sex.” 

That comment makes Felix’s heart twist. Sylvain has always known him, more than anyone, ever since they were kids, but this is a new kind of understanding— one of trust and tenderness, one that Felix had convinced himself that he might never find.

“I don’t?” Felix asks, quietly. 

Sylvain runs his fingers through Felix’s hair, tucking a loose strand behind his ear. “Nah,” he says. “My Felix— you, five years from now— he likes when I praise him in bed but not a moment after.” Sylvain laughs. “Good to know you’ve always been like this,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to Felix’s lips. 

Unwilling to let Sylvain go just yet, Felix kisses back fiercely, throwing his arms around Sylvain’s neck to pull him back onto the bed. 

Sylvain laughs again, but he follows Felix’s lead. Felix shoves his hand into Sylvain’s shirt, thrusting up and out of the way so that he can explore Sylvain’s chest. Sylvain had overwhelmed him earlier— kissing and sucking every inch of Felix’s skin so all that he could do was grab on for dear life— but now that Sylvain’s on top of him, his hands can’t stop roaming. With one hand, he untucks Sylvain’s shirt to run his fingertips over the muscles on Sylvain’s back.

Felix finds more scars than he can ever remember seeing on Sylvain, some deeper than others. Felix ponders briefly on the next five years, and what horrors they are to bring if this future Sylvain is strewn with so many scars. What blades have pierced Sylvain’s skin, and why?

But Felix has one night with Sylvain, and he’s not going to waste it by mourning the future. Pushing the thoughts out of his mind, Felix drags his hand downwards to find Sylvain’s crotch, where Felix can feel his erection straining against his trousers. If anything’s going to distract him, it’s this. 

Sylvain pulls away, holding himself over Felix. “You don’t have to, Felix,” he says. He strokes the side of Felix’s face with his palm.

Felix nudges it with his nose, stretching his lips to press a kiss to the inside of Sylvain’s wrist. “I want to,” he whispers. “Please, Syl— I want to. Want to feel you inside of me.”

The admission brings a blush to Felix’s face, but Sylvain looks downright hungry. He just curses quietly and kisses Felix again. Felix feels himself getting hard again as a second wind rushes through him. He grabs the front of Sylvain’s trousers, giving his erection a few tentative strokes. Sylvain moans into Felix’s mouth, and Felix feels a surge of pride. Sylvain may be older and more experienced, but Felix’s touch can make Sylvain sing. 

“Turn over,” he whispers against Felix’s ear. “Will make it easier.” 

Felix nods, shucking off the undergarments bunched around his hips as Sylvain grabs the bottle of lubricant. Getting on his hands and knees, Felix hears Sylvain removing the rest of his armor and the rustle of fabric as he takes off his trousers. 

Sylvain lays a hand on Felix’s hip. “Good?” he asks, draping himself over Felix’s back to give him a kiss on the cheek. Felix turns his head to meet him with an open-mouthed kiss. 

“Great,” Felix responds. He feels Sylvain’s hot breath on his back, his open mouth trailing kisses down the curve of Felix’s spine. Felix arches his back for good measure.

And then Sylvain flicks his tongue against Felix’s hole, and Felix gasps.

“Sylvain,” he groans, gripping the sheets tighter. Burying his face into his pillow isn’t enough to muffle the pants and cries that spill from his mouth as Sylvain works, licking the flat of his tongue over Felix’s entrance. It’s a new sensation, and Felix writhes against it.

His squirming makes Sylvain’s tongue probe deeper and goddess, if he thought Sylvain’s fingers were magical, his mouth could make angels sing.

And the sounds coming out of Felix are a symphony.

“You sound so good, love,” Sylvian words buzz on his skin, lazy and warm. 

Sylvain spreads him apart as he works, his tongue greedily taking Felix apart with each pass. He circles around Felix’s hole for a moment before he presses his tongue past the ring of muscle and into Felix. At the same moment, Sylvain’s hand finds Felix’s cock and Felix almost comes a second time. His body is on fire, and he feels like he’s going to combust.

Sylvain works his wrist, and Felix aches.

“Syl—” Felix pants, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I can’t take… fuck! Much more, ah— Need you… Inside. Please.”

“Anything for you,” Sylvain responds breathily. Felix barely registers Sylvain lining up behind him, tipping Felix’s hips upward for better access, because Felix is already so far gone, pulled tighter than a wire, the tension in his balls threatening to burst.

When Sylvain presses into him, pushing his cock past Felix’s sensitive entrance and deep inside of him, Felix finally breaks. 

Sylvain sets a brutal pace, their hips connecting over and over. Felix can't get his elbows underneath him to prop himself up, but luckily Sylvain is there and he hoists Felix up by his chest to press their bodies together, back to front. The angle makes it harder for Sylvain to rail him, but now Sylvain’s cock is perfectly pressed against Felix’s prostate. Felix lets out a strangled cry, a sound that forces its way out of his throat. 

All Felix can focus on is finally. It feels like he’s been waiting for this his entire life and this moment feels like a release. The tension leaves Felix’s body as he relaxes into Sylvain, opens himself up to Sylvain. 

“You’re doing so good, love, you’re so— tight,” Sylvain murmurs into Felix’s ear in between his own gasps. 

“Fuck, Sylvain—“ Felix whimpers, incapable of forming anything other than curses and Sylvain’s name. The tension in his abdomen is growing taut, his cock bouncing against his own abs and leaving a trail of shiny precome streaked across the muscles. 

Felix is so full, so hot and desperate and he can faintly hear Sylvain calling his name over the sound of his own cries as Sylvain rocks in and out, in and out. He wraps one hand around his cock, desperate for relief. In an instant he feels Sylvain’s hand wrap around his, warm, stroking Felix to the rhythm of their bodies. 

“I’m— I’m close,” Felix groans, twisting his hand faster as he chases his orgasm. He hears Sylvain’s breath catch as Felix clenches around his cock, but Felix can’t help it, he’s almost there.

Sylvain’s close too, by the way that his pace is becoming more erratic, his breaths coming in closer together, the twist of his hand around Felix clumsy and uncoordinated. It only takes a few more strokes of their joined hands for Felix to come for a second time, jerking forward as he spills onto the sheets. 

He feels Sylvain thrust into him one, two, three more times before his hips stutter and pause, a small gasp a quiet “Felix” falling from his mouth. 

It takes a moment, but Goddess, Felix has never been so exhausted in his life. It’s a different kind of tired, one he never gets from training or even touching himself. Felix tips his head back to lay it on Sylvain’s shoulders, too tired to turn around and properly kiss him. 

Felix is fucked out, his legs shaking to the point where he can’t hold himself upright. But Sylvain is there, he’s always there, and has a hand around Felix’s waist to steady him. He helps Felix by gently lowering him onto the bed and covering him with the clean part of the sheets. 

They recover quietly, listening to the sound of their breathing steadily even out. 

After a few minutes, Sylvain turns on his side to face Felix. Felix watches a gentle smile stretch across Sylvain’s face and he reaches to brush a strand of Felix’s hair from his eyes. 

“Goddess, I waited so long to do that?” he whispers. “I truly am the biggest fool in all of Fodlan.”

Sylvain’s hand is still hovering by his ear so Felix takes the opportunity to kiss it, pressing his lips to Sylvain’s palm. 

Felix’s room has gotten dimmer as the light outside fades, and the single candle at his bedside is barely able to keep up. In the low light, the soft shadows blur some of the lines on Sylvain’s face, and he almost looks like his Sylvain, the one from Felix’s own time. The sight is enough to feel like a knife twisting in his heart. 

A chorus of voices calls out from the hallway, and they both turn as they hear the sound of a door closing in the room next to Felix’s, the signal that Sylvain is home for the night. 

And then, Felix waits for the man he loves to leave. 

“I have to go,” Sylvain says, sadness coloring the edges of his words. He looks longingly at Felix, like he doesn’t want to leave the safe embrace of Felix’s bed either. 

Felix nods, because a part of him had known from the moment that Sylvain walked into his room that he would eventually have to leave it. 

“I gotta knock some sense into my past self,” Sylvain jokes, tipping his head towards his old room with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Felix nods again, because he doesn’t know what to say. The loneliness is starting to set into his bones, and Sylvain is still right in front of him, close enough to touch.

Maybe Felix could ease the pain if he only had the right words, but tonight he finds himself empty-handed. 

Then Sylvain scrunches his eyebrows, like he wants to say something, and Felix has the urge to poke the wrinkles on his forehead and call him an “old man.” 

He hopes he’ll get a chance someday. 

“I need to ask you something,” Sylvain says, quietly. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you, and I understand if you can’t do it, but… Please wait for me, Felix,” he whispers. “I know it’s going to take a while, and I know it’s unfair to even ask you to do this, but I promise I will come around. So please, just, please— wait for me.”

“Of course.”

Felix says it without hesitation, and Sylvain breathes a quiet sigh of relief. He kisses Felix once more— sharp and quick, before he dresses himself to leave. 

“Thank you,” Sylvain says, kneeling by the bed where Felix now sits. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Just kiss me,” Felix says, pulling this future Sylvain close for the last time. Lips and teeth crash together, and Felix feels tears burning behind his eyelids. 

There is a dull thud from next door— the Sylvain from his own time is drunk and has knocked something over. The two pull apart, but Felix is desperate not to let go. 

Sylvain must sense this, because he gives Felix’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll see you soon. Promise.”

“Promise,” Felix echoes, and Sylvain waves a little goodbye as he closes the door. 

Felix knows Sylvain won’t be back, not tonight. But he left with the promise of a future on his lips, and Felix can still feel the ghost of Sylvain’s touch on his skin. 

It feels warm. It feels like home. 

As Felix settles back under his covers, listening to the muted voices drifting from the room next to his, he hopes. Maybe this night was all a dream, some figment of his imagination that crawled its way from the recesses of his subconscious just to torture him. Maybe what Sylvain said isn’t true, and some future Felix isn’t out there, waiting for his Sylvain to return home. 

Or maybe it is. Felix would wait a lifetime to find out.

(The voices next door crescendo, the beginnings of an argument. Felix fights the urge to press his ear against the wall to listen.)

Then again, if Sylvain is telling the truth, Felix won’t have to.

**Author's Note:**

> Three things:
> 
> 1) sorry I made it a little sad at the end, but I really couldn't help myself.  
> 2) thank you to my incredible, thoughtful, wonderful beta [@peppybismilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk) for not only helping me figure out Sylvain's TS armor (???) but encouraging me through this whole thing and leaving hilarious comments on my first draft.  
> 3) I almost included an epigraph for this, but then I decided to take myself less seriously and didn't put it at the beginning. However, if you want to read a cute poem I thought framed this piece really well, you can read it [here](https://medium.com/@kabayomi/a-postcard-lang-leav-138c5453c86).
> 
> Say hi on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/phichithamsters)


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